I've been questioning a lot lately and mostly writing when I'm on my break at work in the insane cold of a sterile and bleach-smelling corner room. For some reason it's the place I think about issues clearly. Right now I wish I could right something profound about current events, about how a 14 year old died with a steak knife in his heart yesterday one street over from this room, about how all the kids are on edge today, about how fragile life is. I wish I could piece words together in a way that made sense and expressed my emotions.
But even though I'm trying to think deeply and feel deeply about the state of this neighborhood and my role somehow on the fringes of it, I still feel trapped in my own questions from this weekend. See, I've been trying to figure out with I want- I feel like I used to know and somehow lost sight of the clarity along the way. My relationship ended terribly. The only two I've ever had have ended, ended in ways that make people tense when they ask and hear, clenched because no one wants to believe love can fold and morph and die sometimes. So in the midst of all my married friends and the bliss of their lives making sense, I find myself lost but trying to celebrate. My life just seems so separate.
And then I remember, I live. And mourn for the walking dead, the 12 year old who will forever have the memory of murder over him. How do I even begin to pray? What does it sound like for me right now?
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1 comment:
This spoke to me, Kate. I see young men and women dying everyday at my job and it still makes no sense. There is no answer, no easy solution to why young men die in their prime, why love fades when it has barely begun. It is just the chaos that is creation crying out for redemption.
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